


Two's Company

by sushibomb



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Flirting, Gen, M/M, Training Camp, casual conversations, cheek kisses, the beginnings of attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 00:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4807958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sushibomb/pseuds/sushibomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tsukishima’s eyes float around the gym, half-watching games, mostly just looking for something else to distract him from the heat and his still pounding head. It’s then that he spots a familiar blob of red and black in his periphery, gradually growing larger until Nekoma’s captain is standing down by the front bleacher, looking up at him with his arms crossed over his broad chest.<br/>Oh, it’s Kuroo-san. Tsukishima mentally shrugs. Well, he did want a distraction. I guess he’s distracting enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two's Company

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be a small drabble and next thing I know it's over 3,000 words idk I was just in a cute kurotsukki mood
> 
> enjoy!!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Haikyuu. I write solely to entertain.

_It’s way too fucking hot in this gym right now._

Tokyo heat, it seems, really is as bad as people say it is, though it doesn’t appear that anyone else in the fairly crowded gymnasium has taken as much notice to the lack of ventilation as Tsukishima has. But then, he’s sure no one else is nursing the same pounding headache that he is. He’s had it since that morning; what started as a faint throbbing in the area above and behind his nose has since escalated into a full-blown sinus headache. Tsukishima pinches the bridge of his nose, groaning softly with discomfort. The motion doesn’t help at all, other than serving as a temporary distraction from both the headache and from the continuous echo of volleyballs pounding the floor around the gym.

He wishes that somehow he could fast forward time to the end of the day, to when he could get out of this musty gym and go back to the air conditioned lodge he and his team are staying at and take something for this damned headache. But it’s still early afternoon, and they’ve hardly logged enough practice time for the day to leave anytime soon.

Thankfully, captain Sawamura was observant enough to notice Tsukishima’s obvious discomfort and greater lack of enthusiasm than usual, and let him sit out for a bit. So he tucks his headphones back on and raises the volume up, watching from the bleachers with water bottle in hand as both Hinata and Tanaka bound after a high but wayward spike from the member of the team they’re playing; one from the right and one from the left.

That certainly isn’t going to end well, he thinks with a soft smirk.

And it doesn’t. There is suddenly a lot of noise in the gym, more specifically a lot of cursing and threats (Tanaka) peppered with frantic, incoherent apologies blurted out a mile a minute (Hinata).

Of course, Karasuno ends up losing the set because of the screw up. Which is a bummer, Tsukishima supposes. But their, as in Hinata and Tanaka’s, inevitable collision does perk him up a bit though, so it wasn’t a total waste. He’ll take the few second reprieve, even if ( _especially_ if) it’s at someone else’s expense.

But the chatter soon fades and another set starts, and Tsukishima’s eyes float around the gym, half-watching games, mostly just looking for something else to distract him from the heat and his still pounding head. It’s then that he spots a familiar blob of red and black in his periphery, gradually growing larger until Nekoma’s captain is standing down by the front bleacher, looking up at him with his arms crossed over his broad chest.

 _Oh, it’s Kuroo-san._ Tsukishima mentally shrugs. Well, he did want a distraction. _I guess he’s distracting enough._

Tsukishima turns his body slightly in Kuroo’s direction, just enough to let the older teen know his presence has been acknowledged and he has been given the green light to either speak or approach, whichever comes first.

Kuroo does both.

“Hey there,” He begins as he clambers up the bleachers two at time. His legs are as long as Tsukishima’s, and in two and a half strides, he is hovering directly over Tsukishima, regarding him with a stern, ‘disappointed dad’ face.

“I know what you’re gonna say,” Tsukishima quickly starts just as soon as Kuroo opens his mouth, “and I am not bailing on practice. I don’t feel good so I’m sitting out for awhile.”

Kuroo scoffs softly. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

Much to Tsukishima’s discontent, Kuroo takes a seat on the bleacher below him and reclines back, resting on his forearms.

“Don’t you have a team to mentor slash torment?” Tsukishima quips as soon as Kuroo makes himself comfortable.

Kuroo doesn’t miss a beat. “I don’t know, don’t you have some weak-ass blocking to work on?”

Tsukishima sucks his teeth. Admittedly, he left himself wide open for that one, but still. “I _have_ a _headache_.” He elaborates slowly, not caring to smother the impatience that creeps into his tone.

Kuroo is unfazed by it, however. “Sitting here thinking about how much your head hurts certainly isn’t going to make it go away, is it?” He pauses to look over his shoulder at Tsukishima. “You might as well work through it.”

“You make it sound like ignoring pain is the easiest thing in the world. That’s a little insensitive, don’t you think?”

Kuroo smiles. “I’m not saying it’s easy, just that moving and focusing on something other than the pain instead of sitting here squinting and moping and _actually making it worse-_ ” Kuroo pointedly elaborates in the same tone Tsukishima had just taken with him, “-would do you a lot more good. It’s mind over matter. Willpower.”

Tsukishima scoffs. “I have none of that.”

Kuroo snorts. “Yeah, me neither.” He chirps bluntly, “That’s why I’m over here dicking around with you instead of ‘tormentoring’ my team.”

“So who the hell are you to come lecture me when you’re doing a whole lot of nothing too?”

Kuroo shrugs but doesn’t respond with anything other than a half-hearted ‘eh’. Tsukishima rolls his eyes and after that, the pair sits in semi-comfortable silence. Tsukishima tries to focus on the other members of his team and their struggle to win the last set of their match. But his eyes eventually fall back to the teen sitting next to him.

His gaze trails over Kuroo’s broad shoulders and strong arms, taking note with a small twinge of irritation at how confident and relaxed Kuroo is just sitting there with him, like they’re friends or something. There’s no tension anywhere in his posture; the older teen lounges as languidly as a cat on a brick gate on a sunny day, comfortable with Tsukishima for company. From his shoulders Tsukishima’s eyes gaze float to Kuroo’s hair, regarding it with some part amusement, in larger part intrigue.

_How?_

He doesn’t notice himself gradually leaning closer, hand outstretched, well- he _does_ notice, it’s just hard to stop himself so he tells himself he’s not _really_ aware of what he’s doing. His fingers barely brush over the dark fringe when,

“What are you doing, Tsukki?” Kuroo suddenly asks, and Tsukishima flushes. He pulls his hand away from Kuroo’s hair quickly, folding his hands in his lap. Nothing has ever gone from good idea to bad idea so fast.

“Sorry, that just came over me.” He lies quickly.

 Kuroo’s eyes narrow a fraction. “I’m sure.”

He turns back to the court. “Why does everyone act like my hair is some kind of goddamn spectacle?” He mutters to himself.

“Because it is.” Tsukishima blurts out, though in the end it’s not completely by accident. Part of him is curious to see how the older teen will react. Kuroo bought the metaphorical ticket, now he’s taking the ride.

“Says the French fry with glasses.” Kuroo rounds on him fully, leaning in on folded forearms. “I wonder,” he begins, a feral smirk growing, “Does the carpet match the drapes?”

Tsukishima blanks. “…What?”

Kuroo’s smirk dims slightly. “Does the _carpet_ match the _drapes_?” He repeats slowly, as if saying it again would somehow make Tsukishima get it. Unsurprisingly, Tsukishima does not get it. His eyebrows furrow as he stares down at Kuroo in confusion.

Kuroo sighs exasperatedly, and in the very least, Tsukishima is glad that Kuroo’s attempt to be a smartass backfired. He can’t be offended if he doesn’t get the joke. Admittedly not the most impressive way he’s ever bested someone, but the disappointment on Kuroo’s face is worth it.

“You’ve never heard that expression before?”

“No. What’s that mean?”

Kuroo’s lopsided grin returns as quickly as it left and Tsukishima mentally face-palms. In this battle of wits, Kuroo is never down for long.

 “Hmmm…if you can’t figure it out on your own, I don’t know what to tell you.” He sing-songs teasingly. Tsukishima flicks him on the nose.

“Tell me.”

Kuroo ignores him, instead reaching for his iPod. “What’re you listening to?” He asks as he thumbs over the screen, undimming it. But before he can read the song title, Tsukishima snatches his iPod back.

“Don’t change the subj-”

“-Shhhhhh….” Kuroo puts his finger over Tsukishima’s lips, effectively shushing him, “I’m just gonna casually change the subject now thanks.” He whispers breezily. “Don’t bite me, Tsukki.”

Tsukishima’s eyes widen. “Mmm…mm-hmm…” He nods immediately, lips smirking against Kuroo’s finger. He continues to nod even as Kuroo shakes his head. “Don’t bite me.”

He moves his finger in the nick of time, just as Tsukishima bites at him.

“Too slow.” Kuroo laughs.

Tsukishima wipes his mouth off with the hem of his shirt. “Don’t put your dirty hands on people’s faces, Kuroo, jeez. That’s how colds and diseases are spread. What are you, a fucking ape?”

But Kuroo is too preoccupied with Tsukishima’s iPod- which how and when he swiped it, Tsukishima is at a loss- to make a retort.

“Stop taking my iPod!” He snaps as he snatches it back once again. Kuroo frowns. “I wanna know what kind of music you’re listening to.”

“Too damn bad.”

Kuroo’s smile grows cocky. “I bet I can guess what kind of stuff you like.”

Tsukishima scoffs. “You can’t. And you won’t.” He says arrogantly, but Kuroo doesn’t back down from his challenge. If anything, he sidles ever closer, eyes alight with a weird intensity that Tsukishima finds himself taken aback by.

“If I guess right you have to practice with me, Bokuto, and Akaashi later.”

Tsukishima sighs and shrugs. “Fine. But if you guess wrong, you aren’t allowed to talk to me for the rest of the training camp.”

“Alright.”

Tsukishima’s eyebrow quirks with amusement. _Someone’s a little too confident for his own good._

“Okay then, shoot.”

Kuroo stares up at him intently, chin in hand. The two sit in silence for a beat, until,

“You have an unexpectedly eclectic taste in music.” He says finally. Tsukishima smirks down at him. “You’re going to have to be more specific th-”

“You don’t mind mainstream music as much as people would first assume that you do,” Kuroo continues, still studying him, “but it’s not your cup of tea. You like different, but you’re not particular about genre, nor are you pretentious about it. Just,” Kuroo pauses for a moment, choosing his words carefully, “It has to not only catch your attention, but hold it. Lyrics matter to you, but it depends on the artist. And what kind of mood you’re in.”

Kuroo shifts closer. “A lot of instrumentals. Bass, catchy beats and percussion. And you wouldn’t kick synth snares out of bed. You probably have a lot of those like hour long dubstep or drum and bass mixes.” His head tilts in contemplation. “But you also seem like someone who-”

“-Are you planning on naming any specific musicians any time soon or are you just going to keep waxing analytical?”

“-has a lot of anime and movie soundtracks…” Kuroo smirks, “…even the super bubbly ones.”

Tsukishima gives him a look and Kuroo laughs. “So I’m betting you listen to a lot of jpop and kpop. Older j-rock too, like Malice Mizer or Dir En Grey. Girugamesh, too, probably. ”

“That’s…” Tsukishima sighs, “Actually pretty accurate.” His eyes narrow. “You cheated somehow, didn’t you?”

“Nope.”

“Really.”

“Scout’s honor.”

“Well, assuming you played fair, that was pretty spot on. I can’t really name any Malice Mizer songs, but I do like Dir En Grey and Girugamesh.”

Kuroo looks ready to high five himself. But before he floats off the earth, Tsukishima quickly asks, “What else?”

Kuroo’s proud, silent gloating is temporarily interrupted. “Hm?”

“Tell me more.” Tsukishima continues.

Kuroo folds his arms over his chest. “Okay,” He pauses for a moment. “You like bands from all over the world. Not understanding the language doesn’t keep you from enjoying the song. So, I’m betting you listen to a lot of western music, too. Probably a lot of artists from the UK.”

Kuroo taps his lips. “You seem like a Sneaker Pimps and Massive Attack kind of guy.”

Tsukishima is genuinely impressed. “I love Massive Attack.” He says. “Nineties trip-hop is awesome.”

Kuroo nods in agreement. “Yeah, it sure is.” He turns to Tsukishima. “Looks like I win.”

Tsukishima sighs but concedes. “Yeah, yeah, you win.”

Kuroo turns back to the court, smiling proudly to himself. “Yay.” He exclaims mildly, which makes Tsukishima laugh. But now he’s kind of curious, too.

“Sounds like you like some of the same stuff, Kuroo.” He begins as he drinks from his water bottle, trying to sound as indifferent as he can, like it’s just simple observation. Which it _is_.

 Kuroo shakes his head. “Me? Nooo.” He scoffs as he watches a member of his team flub a serve, “I don’t listen to anything other than whale sounds, all of the English pokemon songs played backwards at the wrong RPM, and three-hour long speed-yodeling compilations I rip from youtube.”

Tsukishima spits his water out, an unexpectedly (and embarrassingly) loud peel of laughter escaping him. A few people look over at them, some curious, some flat out shocked (Kageyama does an impressive imitation of a goldfish when he’s surprised.)

“Wow, gross.” Kuroo deadpans as Tsukishima thumps at his chest, “You got your backwash on my new shoes, and also my leg.”

Tsukishima’s face feels hot and moist from tears, but Kuroo’s bland observation sends him into another fit of choking and hysterics. Kuroo just watches him quietly, bemused.

“I wasn’t trying to be funny,” He begins when Tsukishima starts to calm down again, “You got spitty water all over my leg. I think it’s in my sock.”

By the time his laughter winds down, quite a few people, namely his teammates, are watching the two of them, wondering what the hell happened to Tsukishima, because the _real_ Tsukishima does not laugh like a buck wild donkey, not caring who sees or hears him.

He’s sure they’re all thinking the same thing: _Nekoma’s captain must be a gifted comedian to make Tsukishima laugh like that._

He’s not at all, nothing he’s saying is even really that funny. It’s just the way he says them, so casually and matter- of-factly that for some reason caught him off guard. That and the thought of Kuroo Tetsurou, middle blocker extraordinaire and venerated captain of one of Tokyo’s top volleyball teams, sitting in his darkened bedroom and downloading more files to his ‘Speed Yodeling’ folder, conspicuously labeled with all capital letters in the dead center of his desktop is just too insane of a mental image. Tsukishima starts laughing into his hands all over again.

He’s going to be thinking about it the rest of the day now. Great.

The laughter eventually dies down permanently, and Tsukishima exhales tiredly, wiping his eyes from under the lenses of his glasses with his t-shirt. “Oh, man.” He says, trying to steady his breathing. After a beat, he feels eyes on him and turns. Kuroo is watching him, and from the looks of it, has been for much of his… _outburst_.

Tsukishima sniffs, wipes at his eye again. “…What?”

Kuroo doesn’t respond right away; he just watches Tsukishima in what he assumes is amusement, but to be honest, with Kuroo sometimes it’s hard to tell what he’s thinking. And after a good minute of silent staring, Tsukishima is feeling unnerved.

“I’m glad my moist sock is amusing to you.”

A snort, followed by a quiet chuckle which grows into another face-in-hand guffaw. Tsukishima isn’t sure how much more of this he can take.

“I don’t know why that was so funny,” He begins quietly, holding Tsukishima’s attention rapt, “But has anyone ever told you that you have the most _adorable_ laugh ever?”

And just like that, all laughter ceases. In fact, many of his bodily functions seem to cease in that instant, along with any thought (rational or otherwise) and all movement around them. Everything stops except the dropping of his jaw and the soft curl of Kuroo’s smile.

Part of Tsukishima can’t help but wonder if Kuroo is even fully aware of what he just said. But Kuroo is as confident as his hair is messy; if he says something, it’s deliberate. It seems ‘the Provocation Expert’ is more apt a nickname than he would have originally guessed. Kuroo knows how to get a reaction.

As to what that reaction is, Tsukishima is still trying to figure it out.

“Uh…” He finally mumbles, the very picture of eloquence. “…I have an adorable laugh?”

Kuroo’s smile widens to show teeth. “Yeah, you do. It’s…” He thinks for a second, “Unexpectedly light and innocent-sounding for someone who snarks the way you do.”

Kuroo goes on to say more, but at the moment, Tsukishima’s attention is held fast, and he finds himself noticing Kuroo’s dimples way more than he feels comfortable with. He also notices that Kuroo’s cologne smells really nice. It’s faint and masked with sweat and gym smells, but it’s making his heart race for some reason. Kuroo smiles again and Tsukishima swears it’s like staring into the fucking sun. It makes him feel warm and weirdly relaxed.

He grips the bleacher tightly, gulping slowly. _Oh, boy._

Maybe this is the reaction Kuroo was looking for.

“…ur head still hurt?”

Tsukishima blinks. “What?”

“Your head,” Kuroo points at his face, “Does it still hurt?”

Oh, Tsukishima thinks. Come to think of it, it does still kind of hurt, but that’s hardly his biggest concern at the moment.

“A little.” He says honestly. Kuroo nods, pensive for a second before scooting closer.

“Give me your hand.” He commands softly, not waiting for Tsukishima to even acknowledge the request before reaching over and grabbing his left hand. He sets it palm up in his own hand, eyes moving over the lines of his palm thoughtfully.

Tsukishima is not sure how to feel in this moment, but he knows for certain that he is feeling a lot of feelings right now. He’s nervous, curious, uncomfortable, and relaxed all at once. Especially as Kuroo turns his hand this way and that, studying it, looking for something that as of yet remains unknown to Tsukishima. Kuroo’s hand feels rough as it traces over his own; long dexterous fingers caress and maneuver through and over his until Kuroo makes a soft noise that signals he’s finally found what he’s looking for.

“What are you doing?” Tsukishima finally thinks to ask. Kuroo traces the tips of his thumb and index finger to the fleshy junction where Tsukishima’s thumb connects to the rest of this hand. The action is soft and deliberate, and Tsukishima has this sneaking feeling he’s making Kuroo playing with his fingers way more erotic in his head than it actually is.

Or maybe not. Kuroo is sitting really close, after all. And there is still the whole, ‘adorable laugh’ comment. There are way too many things happening right now, and Tsukishima doesn’t quite know what to do or think. So he just watches.

Through all of his inner monologuing, Kuroo hasn’t responded to his question, concentrated as he is. He moves the tips of his fingers over and up a bit, and then pinches. Hard.

“Oww!” Tsukishima exclaims, trying to tug his hand back. But Kuroo’s grip is firm.

“Calm down,” He says as he lessens his grip a bit, “It’s a pressure point. Just pinch there for a while and the headache will start to fade.”

Tsukishima glares, but there’s no bite behind it. Mostly disbelief. “That doesn’t work.” He says, letting his doubt seep into his tone.

Kuroo pinches harder. “It does _to_ work. My cousin is studying to be a masseuse and she taught me this a few months ago. You just have to keep the pressure on it.”

Tsukishima still isn’t fully convinced, but nonetheless, he sits there with Kuroo for a good fifteen minutes, his hand resting in Kuroo’s lap as the older teen pinches his hand numb; Kuroo keeps such a firm pressure that Tsukishima is amazed the muscles in his own hand aren’t cramping up.

But to his genuine surprise, after a while, he does feel the pressure and pain in his head gradually start to lessen.

“Wow, it’s actually helping.” He admits. Kuroo smiles, but it’s not the ‘I told you so’ kind of smile that Tsukishima had been expecting. It’s just a small, pleased smile. Like Kuroo’s sincerely glad to know he’s feeling better.

Soon, the pain and pressure begin to dissipate in earnest, leaving behind nothing but fatigue. Tsukishima yawns. He doesn’t care enough to ask, and at this point he’s sure Kuroo wouldn’t mind anyway, so he rests his head on the other teen’s shoulder, letting his eyes fall shut for a bit.

Surprisingly enough, he feels Kuroo stiffen at the sudden contact. Curious, he opens his eyes and looks up, only to find Kuroo staring right back down at him, eyebrows disappeared under his fringe.

“I didn’t think you’d mind, what with the whole ‘adorable laugh’ thing and this,” he gestures to his hand, still held fast in Kuroo’s grip.

“I don’t.” Kuroo murmurs quietly, “Just kind of caught me off guard, that’s all.”

“Good. I’d hoped I wasn’t being presumptuous.”

“You’re not.” Kuroo’s other hand comes into play, smoothing down Tsukishima’s forearm and over the back surface of his hand. It feels nice. Tsukishima moves his head further up, until his chin is resting directly on Kuroo’s shoulder. He leans in and places a soft kiss on the older teen’s cheek before turning and laying his head back on Kuroo’s shoulder.

Kuroo doesn’t react right away; Tsukishima is left wondering if he either is frozen with shock or didn’t notice that he’d just been kissed. But soon,

“Did you just kiss me?”

“Maybe.”

He hears Kuroo chuckle to himself, and tilts his head up. Kuroo is watching his team, but the second he feels Tsukishima shift, he looks down at him. The two are eye to eye once again.

“Ohhhh…” Kuroo breathes dramatically, “What are we?”

“Stupid.” Is the only thing Tsukishima can think to say, but when Kuroo leans down and kisses him on his own cheek, there are no words at all. The two fall into a comfortable silence for a long while, content to listen to the other’s breathing and the sounds of their teammates squabbling.

“Hey, Kuroo?” Tsukishima begins after a bit.

“Hm?”

“Explain the carpet-drape thing to me. It’s really bugging me.”

“Oh my God, Tsukishima.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> side note: all the musicians I mentioned I put in the fic because I associate them with kurotsukki in some way or another so yeah. And also MA just really seems like an artist Tsukki would like idk it's just his aesthetic tbh


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